Puissance
by Spoilerwolf
Summary: It has been said that Sam has a bomb inside of him. What happens when that bomb finally goes off?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A/N: Wow, it's been an _extremely _long time since I've posted anything! I'm sorry! (ducks to avoid being hit with tomatoes) But! I have finally finished this story, so you won't have to wait too long for updates. I plan to post once a week, and there will be about four chapters to this story. I have another fic that is 90% done, so I'll have another one up in no time!

A/N 2: Okay, so there's more cussing in this fic than any of my others. You've been warned. Also, this is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own. This story takes place sometime after "Metamorphosis".

Disclaimer: Yes, I'll say it as I always do: I do not own the characters. They belong to Eric Kripke. But I wish I did.

* * *

The windshield wipers squeaked across the window back and forth, rain pitter-pattering against the car as they entered the small town of Far Banks, Wisconsin. Dean drove, one hand on the wheel while the other tapped a beat on his thigh as the speakers blared out a classic rock tune, relaxed and 'in the zone'.

Sam was quiet, studying the scenery as they passed by streetlights, watching as the lights illuminated the quiet little town. Neither one had said much in the last 100 miles; Dean's music making it almost impossible without turning the music off and Sam was for once grateful for the distraction. Things hadn't been the same since Dean found out about Sam's nightly activities which included fine tuning his abilities with the help from the demon Ruby. Sam didn't begrudge Dean's anger. He'd been right to be furious with Sam. But the verbal tongue lashing combined with the physical ones had certainly left its mark.

_If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you. _Sam squeezed his eyes closed and let out a tired sigh. Some of his brother's comments had hit to the bone, and though not unholy justified, it just plain _hurt. _If Dean couldn't trust him, if he didn't _believe _in him, then what did Sam have? Every decision he made seemed he was screwed if he did, screwed if he didn't. He never made the right choice, was always a disappointment to someone, and having Dean's disappointment hit harder than anyone's ever had.

He hadn't lied to Dean when he said he was done with his abilities. Why bother tempting fate? Seemed all fate tried to do was fuck him over, and Sam was just tired of getting screwed over, time and time again. Besides, these powers hadn't saved Dean, so why bother trying now? Sure, he'd saved people from possession, a subject that he was far too familiar with. And it had felt _good _to be able to at least help _someone_ when he was floundering in his own grief. He'd thought he was helping, using this 'curse' and have something positive come from such a horrible and life long experience, but with Dean's reaction…

Speaking of, his brother must have picked up on his depressing and 'emo' mood, as his eyes glanced over at Sam, seemingly looking right through him and then turning his attention back to the road. Yeah, they'd both done the silent assessments the last two weeks or so. Dean wasn't insanely furious at him anymore, but anytime Sam wanted to go out on his own, Dean would just _look_ at him, and Sam could feel those eyes assessing whether or not Sam had an ulterior motive to leaving. It always left Sam feeling just about an inch tall.

At least they were still talking, which Sam guessed was an improvement.

They had come across an article in the paper, a brief description on mysterious disappearances within the town, folks vanishing in the middle of the night with no signs of a break and enter and Dean had been all over it, throwing their stuff in the car and heading out not half an hour later.

They kept conversations brief, generally just talking about the case and any mundane things they could come up with. Dean was still angry, and that translated into uncomfortable silences. Though, he'd been trying to make an effort the last two days, Sam would just shut down, and the silence would continue.

"Well, here we are at another small unknown town in the middle of nowhere and nonexistent." Dean muttered, eyes already scanning for a motel in which they could stop for the night.

"Yeah." Sam answered quietly, not knowing what else to say. They'd both been up nearly 18 hours and could use a good sleep, if only to get away from the awkward silences.

Dean said nothing, making a left and pulling them into a motel parking lot and shutting the engine off. "I'll get us a room." He muttered under his breath, and shot out of his seat and out the door as if the seat had been an electric chair.

Sam let his head rest against the back of the seat. Another long day and things had still not been settled between them. _Great._

* * *

Sam woke with a kink in his neck and rubbed it tenderly, rolling slowly onto his back as he did so. He blindly reached for his watch that he'd taken off and left on the bedside table. Blinking a few times to get rid of the blurry vision, he pulled the watch in front of his face and checked the time and then dropped it beside him. _11:24 A.M. _

Glancing around the room, he noted that Dean had taken off. A note was left on the table, and as Sam got up and went over to inspect it, he already knew what it would say. _Gone for breakfast. Be back later – Dean._

Sighing, Sam rummaged through his bag and grabbed clean clothes, making his way into the bathroom and closing the door. He relaxed as he stood under the scalding water, allowing the vestiges of sleep to wash away.

A slam of the door signalled his brother's return, and Sam reluctantly shut off the water and dried himself off, slipping on clean clothes before opening the bathroom door and moving towards his duffel bag, ignoring his brother for the moment.

Pulling the chair back, he sat down, his brother watching him subtly even as he pushed a grease stained bag towards him.

"Thanks." Sam greeted, pulling out Styrofoam containers and was surprised to see pancakes, eggs, and sausages inside.

"So it turns out the last victim, Edward Carlyle, wasn't the last. His sister Sarah disappeared last night." Sam looked up between bites of egg and pancakes, indicating for Dean to continue.

"Yeah, the ever cheerful… and _busty_Angie was certainly helpful in spreading the town's gossip. Heh." Dean's voice tapered off, and Sam swallowed a mouthful of food before joining in the conversation.

"Get her number then?"

Dean's smirk answered that question. Back to the task at hand…

"But all the other victims, they had no relations. And whatever this is, it's never been after a family before, or taking people from the same house."

"No, so I figured we'd go check the place out, check in on the family and see what we can dig up." Dean answered, drumming his calloused fingers against the tabletop.

Sam nodded, taking a forkful of food and shoving it into his mouth and wondering when it became so awkward and difficult to talk to his brother about things outside of a case. _Oh yeah, I remember. _He thought bitterly. He had no one else to blame but himself.

* * *

"Well, that went well." Dean bit out sarcastically, throwing his coat on his bed and yanking off his tie.

"Well what do you expect? They said their kids haven't been acting any differently, hadn't noticed their kids hanging out with anyone strange. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Yeah, well if anyone would know about acting differently or hiding things, you would know." The comment wasn't said without heat, and Sam couldn't help but wince.

"Well then what do you want to do about this one? Stake out? See if this thing comes back?" When hurt, divert.

"Yeah, we can check the place out tonight, see if Mr. Fugly comes out to play, whoever it is." Dean answered his tone neutral.

"Dean…." Sam pleaded.

"Not now, Sam. We'll deal with it later, okay?" Dean answered without even turning around, his back to Sam while he dug around in his duffle.

Sam sighed, feeling dejected, slumping down in his chair and turning the computer on. Might as well try and find some information on the area to see if he could narrow down what they were looking for.

* * *

They parked at the curb, idling at the edge of the spacious lawn, sitting there keeping an eye on the house.

Dean put the canister away after having a long gulp of coffee, the drink bringing him back to full awareness. He noted that Sam was still slumped in his seat, eyes never leaving the Carlyle's house as he doggedly averted his eyes from Dean. Dean understood why. They'd both been stressed the last few weeks, and with Sam's ability revelation, it had put a definite strain on their communication. He was still angry with Sam for lying, but he did admit, he hadn't been so accommodating for his younger sibling. He was justified in his anger, but he could see the negative effect it had on Sam, and knew they would eventually have to talk about it – again. But for now, that conversation would have to be put off until after the hunt was over.

"Hey." Sam's voice startled him out of his thoughts and he looked towards the area Sam was pointing at. A dark figure was just disappearing behind the back of the house. Without speaking, both boys jumped out of the car, and ran for the trunk. Dean grabbed a handgun and his favorite shotgun, while Sam reached for his Taurus. A gut feeling was tugging at Sam's consciousness and Sam also grabbed Ruby's knife, hastily strapping it to his ankle before covering it with his pant leg.

Dean said nothing, merely motioning his head in the direction the figure had disappeared to. Sam nodded and followed his brother towards the back of the house.

The back door had been kicked in, the gentle breeze causing the door to bounce against the wall. That didn't distract them from seeing the blood pooling from the dead man in the middle of the kitchen.

"Damnit." Dean hissed, before kneeling down towards the man and checking for a pulse. A quick shake of his head confirmed what Sam already had concluded. The man had blood running down his sides, an apparent stab wound in his abdomen the cause of his death.

"Sweep the upstairs. I'll take the main floor." Sam nodded, his Taurus ready in his hands and moved to the stairway, silently making his way up to the second floor, while Dean moved on to the study, disappearing into the dark room.

* * *

Sam skilfully checked the rooms upstairs. Two bedrooms and a quick check of the bathroom and he'd come up empty – save for the last room at the end of the hallway.

He pushed the door open and cringed when the door creaked open. He had only set one foot into the room and knew – it was the wrong move. It felt like someone had wrapped a rope around his midsection and _heaved. _Sam cried out as his back slammed into the far wall, the gun slipping from his grasp through numb fingers. He could hear a ringing in his ears from the impact, and the noise was drowning out anything else at the present time and he tried to shake his head to clear it.

* * *

Dean moved swiftly through the study, and moved onto the living room. It didn't take long to see Mrs. Carlyle lying in the corner of the room, her neck at an odd angle. _Broken. _Dean thought to himself, and scanned the rest of the area with a keen eye. So what had come in and killed the parents?

A loud thud from upstairs had Dean racing for the stairs, all thoughts of being stealthy flew out the window. "Sam!"

* * *

The shadows by the bay window moved, and Sam watched as a young woman stepped into the moonlight, her black eyes piercing him to the spot. Sam recognized her immediately from the pictures downstairs - It was the missing teen, Sarah. She sneered at him, twisting the woman's features darkly, contrasting what was a beautiful woman otherwise, with shoulder width rich brown hair, and a snug t-shirt that accentuated her curvy figure.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Whatever am I going to do with you? You know, you've cause quite a ruckus the last few months. You've been _very_ naughty." She cooed, swaying her hips as she sauntered over, running her tongue over her lips as if looking at her next meal. Sam merely grunted at her, and turned his head away.

"Oh don't be like that Sam." She purred as she reached a hand out to cup his face. "I think we could have a lot of fun tonight. Just the two of us." She whispered the last sentence, griping Sam's chin with strong, delicate fingers. Sam pulled his face away.

"Sorry. I don't want to _hang around_ for long. I've got other plans." He growled, and her face glowered at him. Both turned their heads when they heard Dean yelling from the stairs, worry evident from his tone.

"Why don't we invite Dean upstairs Sam? I'm sure he'd like to see what trouble you've gotten yourself into." She moved back into the shadows and before Sam could even shout a warning to his brother, an invisible force had frozen his vocal cords, rendering him silent. If only he could get himself _free_, he might be able to stop her.

Dean was approaching the top of the stairs, gun griped tightly in his hands, keeping it trained in front of him, all the while trying to keep his footsteps sure and quiet. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, a chill working its way down his spine. Something was off, and he had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

"Sam?" He hesitantly called out. He hovered near the far wall, inching his way to the closest room just a few feet in front of him. He hedged a look into the room, and saw Sam pinned to the wall a few inches from the floor, trying to communicate through frozen vocal cords of the danger just behind the door. They had been set up.

Dean steadied his gun and pushed the door wide open, keeping his gun raised and aimed at a figure by the window.

"Hello Dean." Dean narrowed his eyes at the petite woman as she stepped out of the shadows. Her eyes flashed black, and Dean steadied the gun in his hands.

"Sam, what have I told you about buckets-of-crazy gals? You need some normal girls if you're going to get laid." Dean threw at his brother, who huffed a response that sounded suspiciously like "ass-wipe". Dean had what he would call 'holy' bullets in his gun; A little invention of his own. It wouldn't kill a demon, but it would certainly slow it down.

The woman moved toward him slowly, her steps sure and smooth along the beige carpet, moonlight glinting off the knife she held in her hands, grinning wickedly. Dean didn't hesitate – he pulled the trigger, and heard the 'bang' of the bullet inside the chamber, and felt the recoil of the gun in his hands. Funny thing about demons – they tend to learn new tricks. The girl stopped mid-step, and Dean's eyes widened as he saw the bullet hovering in midair just a foot from her face.

"I'll have to add it to my collectibles." She murmured as the bullet dropped into her hand, just before she telekinetically threw Dean into the wall to her right, his body denting the wall, before he was being dragged up the wall to be pinned there a few inches off the ground. The gun dropped to the floor, and the demon grinned, picking it up with delicate fingers while Dean groaned from the impact.

"Nice gun." She murmured before she tossed it into the far corner of the room. Dean looked across the room at Sam, who looked back at him with intense eyes, and something that Dean couldn't quite place. His attention shifted to the demon as she moved swiftly to his side, brandishing the knife in front of his face.

"Dean Winchester. You made it back up top. Lucky little brother over there has a few tricks up his sleeves." She looked up into his narrowing green eyes and smiled. "It's not quite the same when I don't hear your bloody screams in the morning. It's like having a cup of coffee to start the day. It invigorates you." She inhaled deeply, letting out a long breath. "Don't worry sweetie, I'll make sure this trip you'll stay there. I have to leave the other boys and girls down there with some form of entertainment." She cooed as she brought the tip of the knife to just below his collarbone.

What sounded like a deep growl caused her to turn her head back in the other direction. "Don't be greedy Sam. I'll come play with you after I'm done with big brother." She kept her eyes on Sam as she slowly dragged the knife across Dean's chest. His breath hitched and he hissed in pain. All the while she smirked at Sam, her eyes flashing from brown to liquid black like a flick of a switch. Sam's nostrils flared, and the skin over his knuckles whitened and his veins started to bulge from the pressure. His skin pricking, dancing with adrenaline and burned with anger.

"You watched your brother die once Sam. Wouldn't you like to see it again in high def?" She chuckled darkly, as she pushed the blade harder against Dean's chest, watching in fascination as blood bubbled and spilled over the edge of the blade. Dean cried out, calling her a multitude of names, some of which could be made out as 'bitch' and 'black-eyed hag' as he squirmed and tried to get away, but the pressure holding him against the wall wouldn't relent. The demon grinned, licking the blood off the side of the blade.

"Mmm… you taste good Dean; like chocolate." She merely grinned as Dean glared at her with hooded eyes.

"I hope you choke on it, sweetheart." Dean spit out between clenched teeth. The cut wasn't too deep, but having your skin split open was never a nice warm fuzzy feeling.

She smiled, running her fingers along the cut on his chest, blood coating her fingers.

Neither one seemed to notice how the air was suddenly heaver, like the humidity had just increased…

"There's been a fair bit of Winchester blood spilt, hasn't there Sam?" She asked over her shoulder, turning her hand over to examine the blood by moonlight, watching as it glistened on her fingers. Sam didn't respond, glaring at her while grinding his teeth. Only his harsh breathing could be heard in the suddenly quiet room.

The girl giggled, and stuck the bloody fingers in her mouth, savouring the copper taste as it ran across her tongue. Dean grunted in disgust, and turned his head away, staring towards the open door, not six feet away. He needed to get them out of here. What he needed, was a distraction.

He jumped, or would have jumped if not pinned to the wall, when the girl touched his face, fingers tracing his jaw line.

"Did you know Sam was quite the troublemaker while you were cooking in hell? Caused a bit of an uproar for us demons." She hissed in Sam's direction. He only glared at her in return.

"Supposed to lead us, or at least, that's what Azazel planned. But, he got himself burned by a bullet. Lilith stepped in," And both boys could hear the awe in her voice, "and took care of everything. Was doing what Azazel planned in the first place – get the demons to start a war, go topside and do what we do best – cause pain, death and destruction." Her smile disappeared into a scowl. "But she couldn't kill _him_." She jerked her head in Sam's direction. "I wonder what'll happen when she finds out I killed you both? Nice and slow. It'll be just like old times, Dean." She smiled darkly, her eyes a deep black pool.

"Leave my brother out of this." Both Dean and the girl twisted around to see Sam, who locked eyes with Dean for a second, before pinning the demon with his own glare.

"Sorry Sam. You have to learn how to share. Wouldn't want you to have all the fun now."

"Right. Lilith wants to surround herself with demon bitches like yourself who can't take on hunters on her own without outside help." Sam smirked, watching the demon snarl with anger. The girl flicked her hand, and Sam's head whipped to the side.

"Sam!" Dean called out, watching pain flash across Sam's face, blood droplets hitting the beige carpet silently.

Sam felt his face burn, feeling blood trickle down from the three gashes on his face. His chin rested against chest, tremors wracking his frame.

"Just for that Sam, you get to watch your brother die first. I'll fillet his skin and make a skirt with it." She spit out, anger boiling in her black soulless eyes, as she turned on her heel, knife raised in her right hand.

_Great. Get taken out by a demon she-bitch. I guess I'm going 2 for 2 now._ He choked on a laugh. That really wasn't funny. It wasn't the first time either. Another thought crossed his mind. _I don't want Sam to watch this. _Dean stared at the young girl, not shying away from the blow that would cleave his heart in two, blood spurting out as she ripped the knife from his chest, or the blood coating pale lips… only the knife never came down. There was a crackle in the air, like static electricity. The hairs on Dean's arms and the back of his neck stood on end, cold sweat sliding down his spine.

The demon had an odd look on her face, as if trying to work out a difficult puzzle. Her stance almost comical as the knife was poised just above her head, traces of blood on the knife, glittering against the moonlight streaming from the large bay window. That look changed to one of shock, and if Dean wasn't mistaken – fear. She turned her head to the side, bringing the knife down and holding it close to her thigh and Dean followed her gaze to the one other occupant of the room.

Sam was still pinned to the wall, his head bowed and Dean could not ascertain what was causing the demon before him to tremble. He was about to call for Sam, when he distinguished a 'crack' that sounded like ripping up floorboards. In truth, the wall behind Sam began to split, spider-web cracks destroying the pale green walls, the crown moulding near the top splitting and falling with a dull 'thunk' on the floor. The demon took a step back, eyes tracing the cracks as they moved towards the ceiling, the fan shaking in the center of the room, threatening to fall and shatter on the floor in a shower of glass and wires.

Then, it suddenly stopped.

Dean could feel the pounding of his heart against his ribcage, his senses being triggered by fear, and by confusion. _What the hell is going on?_

"Impossible." The demon whispered, fear making the word tremble between her lips, and both demon and hunter watched, waiting as the figure on the opposite wall stirred.

"Sam?" He waited, holding his breath as Sam slowly lifted his head up.

Sam had his eyes still closed, head rolling on his shoulders as if stretching in preparation for a long workout.

"Sam?" Dean called out hesitantly, and watched as Sam went still again. Sam's eyes snapped open, and Dean was sure his jaw dropped at the same time. Sam's eyes weren't their natural hazel color – and mind you, Dean had seen Sam's eyes change various colors during his lifetime. Pending on Sam's mood, his eyes changed color to match. Dean had seem then burn dark green when he was bitchy or moody, light green when he was happy, and a light brown when he was concentrating or engrossed in research, or trying to work though complicated patterns or systems. Dean knew those eyes. The eyes staring back at him he didn't recognize and if he was being honest with himself, he would say they weren't even a natural color, and fear was making chills race up and down his back.

Sam's eyes burned a deep gold, the whites of his eyes almost non-existent. Dean wasn't sure if Sam even had any pupils from this distance. Sam blinked and the gold receded to his irises, his eyes narrowed and intense. Dean felt a chill race down his back and is stomach twisted in knots, and it didn't help his nerves when Sam gazed at the demon, his lips curved into a feral grin.

Sam stared at the demon across the room much like a lion stares at its prey; Calculating, assessing for weakness, powerful, and with an edge so few could relate to. Sam was now the predator in this room, and the demon had just been demoted to 'prey'.

Sam's eyes blazed dangerously, narrowing at the shaking demon in front of him. He slid from the wall, his feet touching the floor without a sound. With a wicked grin, he pinned the demon with an icy stare.

"You _really_ shouldn't have done that."

* * *

A/N: I know, I'm evil (laughs) Guess you'll just have to wait until the next chapter to find out what's going on with Sam - and where this leaves Dean. Let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews guys! :D To those who reviewed Annon, I wanted to say a quick thanks to you guys. Reviews are always appreciated. :) Okay, so here comes the next chapter. This one is the shortest of them all, but hopefully the action will make up for the lack of length :) Please read and review guys, cause reviews are like chocolate and I love chocolate :p

A/N 2: Still more cussing, angst, and some butt kicking action. you've been warned ;) And any and all spelling errors are my own :p

Disclaimer: Same as before. I do not own Sam and Dean. Kripke does.

* * *

Dean's brain was stuck somewhere around, "What the Hell?" and "What the f- ?" almost the same thoughts, but he never said his brain actually carried a coherent thought at the present time. The whole scene in front of him was kind of surreal. It was like coming into a movie during the action sequence, but not knowing the beginning and all of the characters. Obviously, he was missing something important, 'cause one minute Sam was on the wall, the next he was right beside the demon, pinning her arm to the wall and forcing her to lose her grip on the knife. Huh. Funny how the tables have turned; now his only question was: how?

The demon squirmed in Sam's grasp, trying but failing to get him to let go of her arm.

"What the hell do you want?" She spit out, frightened that she could not push him back with her mind which she had done earlier. She'd never encountered anyone quite like him. A human no less!

He merely gazed at her with narrowed eyes, cocking his head to the side as if listening to something neither of the other room's occupants could here. A beat, then –

"Why don't we have a little chat with your pals waiting outside? Hmm?" Sam asked, mockery evident in his tone as one corner of his mouth curled into a smirk.

Before Dean could even utter a word into the conversation, he watched wide-eyed, as the demon was flung by the arm right into and through the bedroom window, glass shattering like a gun going off. Sam was already posed to jump out the window half a second later, before Dean could even blink. Sam glanced at Dean, golden eyes locking with green, a look of sadness and remorse, before his eyes hardened into what Dean knew all too well was determination. Sam turned back and looked down at the green lawn below him, four demons already gathered on the lawn, including the girl he'd just chucked through the window. He steeled his posture, and let go of any limitations or reservations he might have had.

Sam jumped.

* * *

Dean didn't know how long he stayed leaning against the wall, or how long until he realized he wasn't pinned there anymore, but he was a tad preoccupied with the thought, _That idiot did NOT just jump out of a two-storey fucking window with nothing but his big fat head to land on! _Never mind that Sam seemed to have control over his abilities, which he was NOT supposed to be using or trying to learn how to control in the first place. They were _so_ going to have a long talk about _that _one. Had Sam not learned _anything _from their explosive conversation when Dean had found out about Sam using his abilities and scurrying around with Ruby? Apparently not.

Dean silently fumed about that. But for now, Dean had to put aside the million of questions he had about this whole situation, move his ass away from the wall and get going. Grabbing their guns, Dean silently made his way towards the window, glass crunching under his shoes. He glanced down to make sure Sam hadn't killed himself on the way down. Nope still intact and in deep shit, if the four demons surrounding him were anything to go by.

_Damnit Sam. Your ass is _so_ getting kicked when this is over. _Dean thought angrily to himself as he pushed away from the window and out the bedroom door and down the stairs; glass scraping the wooden floors from the grooves under his shoes as he raced for the front door, his shotgun in hand, a flask of holy water in the other.

* * *

Sam stood still, allowing the demons to surround him, though his eyes kept track of their movements as they shifted quietly on the damp grass. His back was towards the house, the driveway to his left, and the large oak tree in the yard off to his right. He could sense more demons moving around than just the four surrounding him. He and Dean were in a lot of danger, and Sam wanted to get them the hell out of dodge while they still could.

The jump from the window wasn't terrifying like it should have been, with nothing to break his fall but his gangly legs, or his _fat head_, as Dean had so eloquently put it. Sam was almost vibrating with energy, most of which he didn't understand, but instinctively knew. It was much like being hooked up to wires and being put on an electric current, everything emitting electrical signals and energy that his body somehow was able to interpret and relay back to his muscles or limbs before he had consciously decided to do so. It was like living on pure instinct, none of it on an intellectual level, but one born of a need for survival.

He was also being bombarded with messages in his head; thoughts of others were constantly flowing through his mind, a steady hum like white noise that he tried to push away in order to concentrate. He tried to block them like you would a shield against swords or arrows meaning to snuff you out of existence. The pressure in his head from this was heavy, a dull but constant pain in the back of his head, but he didn't have time to wonder what toll this 'episode' was going to cost him.

"What have we got here? A hunter without a weapon?" The taunting voice drew Sam's attention to his left. The man in question was in his late twenties, short black hair and about Dean's height, somewhere around the six foot mark. A black skull t-shirt and jeans fleshed out his appearance. Sam didn't move, other than to flick his eyes in the man's direction.

The three others in the group consisted of two guys in their early thirties, both with medium dark brown hair and angular pale faces. They were also clad in jeans and one wore a red button down checkered shirt, while the other bore a navy blue sweatshirt. The last one was the girl he had tossed out the window, glass and other debris sticking out of her hair in different directions glaring at him as she plucked a particularly long sliver of glass out of her hair, blood trickling down the side of her face as it sliced her skin just below the hairline.

"Hey! I'm talking to you boy!" Apparently _Skully_ here didn't like being ignored. His eyes flashing an inky black.

"And I'm ignoring you. You demons sure flap your gums a lot." Sam threw back, still not looking at the agitated demon. A mischievous smile curling the corners of his mouth.

The demon snarled, inching closer towards Sam, but keeping himself at what he would consider a safe distance, not completely sure what to expect from the boy in front of him. His façade changed; a small smile lighting up his face, and a tranquil and yet superior look made him seem far more in control than he really was.

"I'm going to rip out your intestines and shove it down your cocky little throat," he hissed, his eyes held a dangerous edge to it, "and then I'll find your brother, and cut his head clean off his shoulders and put it on a pike for all to see."

The demon watched as Sam's back stiffened. What he didn't see was Sam's eyes darkening, and his lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. No one, and he meant _no one_, threatened his brother.

One second the demon was a good eight feet away, the next second he was throwing the first punch, aiming for the side of Sam's head. The demon had been on earth a while, having gotten out of the gate when it had been opened back in Wyoming. He'd jumped hosts a number of times, and had even taken out a few hunters in the last year since his release. Humans, to him at least, were nothing more than slaves and things to beat the tar out of. No human, hunter or not, had ever bested him and he prided himself on it. So it came to a surprise when the hunter moved out of the way, his arm deflecting the shot over his head and side stepping the demon, out of harm's way. He felt a shove, and the demon landed face first on the damp grass. Pounding his fist on the ground in frustration, he pushed himself up and was suddenly face to face with a _very_ pissed off Sam Winchester.

Sam sneered at him, and the demon hissed before aiming an elbow at Sam's ribcage. Sam caught his arm just above the elbow, stopping the blow, before pulling the demon's arm down and driving his knee into the demon's midsection. There was a sharp crack as the bones snapped, and the demon gasped in pain before Sam rotated the demon's arm behind his back and applied steady pressure, until the shoulder dislocated and the radius and ulna bones in the demon's arm snapped under the strain. The demon howled and Sam let him drop, focusing his attention on the other three demons standing not ten feet away, watching him with calculating eyes.

The two males advanced, each moving so that they surrounded the youngest Winchester from the front and from behind. Sam's back was to the house once again, and the demon in the checkered shirt stayed a good six feet away in front of him, and he could sense the hoodie guy was about the same distance away behind him. Skully was still down, but demons were known for healing fast, so he wouldn't be out of the fight for long.

Sam shifted his stance, spreading his legs a little further apart to give himself more room to move, but kept his eyes on checkered boy, and his ears trained on the demon behind him. With silent communication, both demons sprung forward, both moving incredibly fast.

Sam however, was faster.

Sam ducked at the last second, felt the fist that would have smashed right into the back of his skull brush past the top of his head, and brought his left arm around and drove the palm of his hand into the demon's back, sending him forward, right smack into the other demon. Before either had a chance to recover, Sam grabbed the back of the demon's sweatshirt and yanked – hard – and the demon sailed through the air before colliding with the brick wall and sliding down. The other demon took a swipe at Sam while he was distracted, but Sam deftly blocked the hit, and slid into defence as he backpedalled and blocked a fist, then a kick to his midsection and an elbow to his face.

Sam thought he heard the front door open and Dean yell for him, and it distracted him long enough that the demon found his mark and nailed Sam hard in the face with its fist, his head snapping to the left from the blow. Sam followed up with his own hit that shattered the demon's facial features; bones crunching and grinding together from the hit. The demon staggered, and Sam was about to finish it up when he heard, "Sam! Down!" and years of training and blind faith had Sam dropping to the ground, an explosion of a shotgun blast a dull 'thud' as it hit its intending target not three feet from Sam's right. The demon in the hoodie had snuck up on him, but Dean had seen him coming; he had Sam's back.

Not wasting another second, Sam was up and grabbing the demon with the now bloody checkered shirt and threw an elbow at the demon, feeling the demon's trachea collapsing in on itself and hearing the demon gurgle for air, before he planted a kick at the demon's abdomen, sending the demon flying into the brand new Toyota Corolla parked on the street in front of the yard. The demon landed on the hood of the car, cracking and utterly destroying the windshield, before sliding off to the pavement on the other side.

"SAM!" Dean's warning had Sam's senses going into overdrive, knowing that Skully was just behind him, but without enough time to stop him from pulling Sam's arms behind his head, immobilizing the limbs.

"Not bad… for a human." He whispered in Sam's ear, even as he increased the pressure on Sam's arms, attempting to break all the bones in his arms. Sam snapped his head back, the demon howling from a busted nose, and loosening his hold long enough for Sam to reach for the knife strapped to his right calf before whipping around and thrusting his arm forward, the blade slicing deep into the demon's chest, the demon not having the chance to feel the pain as the blood seeped out of the knife wound and dribbling onto the knife's handle. Sam pulled the demon a little closer, the knife pushing farther into the demon's chest, Sam's mouth right next to the demon's ear.

"I never said I didn't have a weapon. Not bad… for a human." Sam whispered, wrenching the knife from the demon's chest, and watched the demon's eyes spark as it twitched on the ground as it died from the fatal wound.

The sound of footsteps on concrete had Sam's head snapping up as he watched the female demon take off down the street, her blonde hair bouncing across her back as her feet pounded against the sidewalk. A glance to Dean, and he found his brother watching him – one part unsure, another worried, and one look Sam could not identify. Sam nodded his head in the escaping demon's direction, indicating he wanted Dean to follow her. Dean nodded in the affirmative and bounded after her, hot on her heels.

With a sigh, Sam turned around, seeing the demon he'd tossed earlier into the brick siding, breathing heavily as he struggled to stand, the rock salt having knocked him flat on his ass, smoke lazily steaming out of the wounds the rock salt had created. Sam waited, knowing the demon needed a moment to 'catch his breath'.

He could just send the demon back to hell with his mind, hell he'd done it enough times now to know how it works, but getting information was what he wanted at the present moment. He'd send the stupid bastard back downstairs when he had answers.

"You…" he gasped. Damn, that kid was strong. It felt like he'd been tossed into an oncoming semi and then getting run over by it. "…what kind of game are you playing here, kid? You think you're ready for the big leagues, junior? You're just a small fish in a shark tank." Sam smirked, watching the demon shrink in front of him.

"It seems the fish can outsmart the shark. I know what I'm dealing with." Sam took a step closer, watching with satisfaction that the demon cringed and took another step back. "I want to know where…" Sam's smirk tapered off into a frown, the demon before him already moving towards the side of the building, a dark sinister smile lighting up his features as he called out to the youngest Winchester. "Got your hands full this time kiddo. My bet's on _him._" He called behind him as he slinked around the corner out of sight.

Sam let him go. He had a much more pressing concern. Especially if it was who he sensed was coming this way. "Shit." Sam growled, already moving towards where he'd last seen his brother.

He'd gotten no more than a few steps before the air turned frigid and he felt the air knocked out of his lungs before he was tackled from the side; Sam's body hitting the brick wall hard, his hip smacking into the window sill and his head smashing through one of the living room windows, the glass raining down on him and his attacker.

"Hello Samuel."

* * *

A/N: Okay, reading back I had to laugh because I finished writing this before, 'I Know What You Did This Summer' aired, and apparently the boys _can_ jump out of windows and not get seriously hurt :p Ah, the magic of television. :p But for the sake of argument, we'll say it doesn't often occur :p And knowing Sam's luck, he _would _land on his head :p lol. Hope you've enjoyed it thus far guys. And can I say, 'Ooooh, cliffie!' I love those ;)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well here it is guys! Next chapter. This is (I think) the longest of the four chapters *yes, only one more to go after this :( * and probably (maybe) the one with the most action. So enjoy folks! Standard warnings of bad language and fist fighting are applied. :p Oh, and I may have horrendous spelling errors. Sorry bout that! Pm me if you find any and I'll try and fix it up for you guys.

Disclaimer: Still don't own the characters. Kripke hasn't put them on the market yet :(

* * *

Dean slowed as he reached the end of the block, straining to hear any noise that might indicate where his little demon princess might be hiding. He heard a dog barking in the distance, and crickets coming from the hill off to his right. No footsteps, or any other indication that he wasn't the only one on the street. Groaning, Dean smacked his hand against the wooden fence in frustration.

"What the hell am I even doing here?" Shaking his head, Dean turned around and started jogging back towards the house, back to Sam. He shouldn't have left Sam alone…

At least, that was what he was thinking just before he was being tossed sideways and slammed into the passenger side door of a blue minivan parked beside the curb, rocking the vehicle from the hit. Dean slid down, butt landing on the curb of the side walk, head leaning against the van, trying to clear the white and black dots from his vision. God, his shoulder hurt.

Freaking minivans.

A shadow loomed over, and Dean felt hands pulling him off the ground and pinning him to the car. "Shouldn't have left your brother, Dean." The petite girl hissed between clenched teeth as she lifted Dean up by his collar, his toes barely touching the pavement. "Not after _he _gets down with Sam. Pity, I'd love to see the smug bastard get what's coming to him. Antichrist my ass." Dean grunted, and moved his hand slowly towards the inside of his pocket. "Well sweetheart, as much as this has been an endearing conversation, I got places to be, people to see and a brother to save." Dean had uncapped the flask and flung the contents in the demons face and watched as steam sizzled off her face, her voice a high pitched shrill as she dropped Dean and covered her face in her hands, screaming as her skin blistered from the contact with the holy water.

Dean wasted no time grabbing his shotgun from the sidewalk and taking off as fast as he could back where he should never have taken off from. _Hold on Sammy, I'm coming._

* * *

Blood trickled down from several cuts along the left side of Sam's face, glass having sliced his skin with little difficulty. It slid down his face and dripped down from his chin, darkening his shirt collar a dull rusty brown.

A hand lay clamped around his throat, more so to keep him in place than trying to suffocate him, but it was unappreciated all the same. Sam well knew the man holding him could just as easily snap his neck if he so desired.

Sam threw a telekinetic blast, the hand disappearing from his throat as the man was pushed back a half dozen feet. The dark haired man straightened, tugged at the bottom of his green long-sleeved shirt as if to straighten it, and greeted Sam with a wide smile. "Hello Samuel."

There was no mistaking who that was; even if the last time Sam saw him he was in a different body. "Nikolai." Sam greeted evenly, his skin prickling like needles by the demon's very presence.

"Oh, you do remember me!" The demon clapped his hands together loudly; his eyes never leaving Sam's darkening features. "How very flattering. I was hoping I had left an impression the last time we encountered one another." Sam huffed, remembering indeed the 'impression' Nikolai had left; a four inch scar on his right shoulder blade.

"You come here to shoot the breeze, Nikolai? I've got better things to do." Sam took a step back as the demon moved closer, closing the distance between the two.

"Sam, I'm hurt. We had so much fun the last time we got together." The demon smiled, lips pulled back over a row of perfect teeth. The demon stepped forward again, and Sam matched his step by moving backwards, his back towards the house once again.

The demon stopped, shoving his hands in his pockets and letting out an agitated sigh. "Always on the defensive, Sam. No sense of fun." Nikolai suddenly grinned. "Now your brother on the other hand…" Sam snarled, throwing the demon telekinetically across the lawn, hearing a loud 'thud' as the demon landed.

Nikolai let out a barking laugh, picking himself off the ground and dusting himself off, apparently pleased by the outburst. "You may not be fun kid, but you sure are feisty. Suicidally feisty, but I like that." The wind was picking up, the breeze chilly in the fall air, causing Goosebumps to rise on Sam's arms. The street lights started flickering for a few moments before exploding, raining glass down on the street, leaving only the carpool light on, and the moon's glow to illuminate the Carlyle's sprawling lawn.

Sam barely had time to shift position before Nikolai was right in front of him, a kick aiming directly for his ribs. Sam deflected the blow, which felt like trying to stop a wreaking ball from mowing down a house, before Sam was throwing his own punch.

One thing that Sam had learned about demons was that they never really _tried_ fighting. Most used their telekinetic abilities to incapacitate their opponents, never engaging in physical confrontations. They had no reason to in order to beat a human. Fighting skills for them was minimal because of that very reason. So many hunters hadn't actually _been_ in a hand to hand free-for-all brawl with a demon. Not a high level one, that's for sure, and if they had, they would have lost - of that Sam was sure.

Sam ducked down to avoid a hit, and heard bricks shattering under Nikolai's hand. Sam tried a kick to the demon's side, but Nikolai caught his foot. Sam's eyes widened, before he felt his leg being yanked hard, causing him to lose his balance and land hard on his back, the air forcibly removed from his lungs. Dazed, Sam felt a weight descend on his chest and cried out as two ribs on his left side shifted out of alignment. Nikolai removed his foot and aimed for Sam's sternum.

"HEY!" A shout had Sam whipping his head to the side, his vision catching up with him a second later, and watched Dean pulling the trigger on his loaded shotgun. The gun fired, the round hitting Nikolai in the face and down his left side. Dean hissed a warning towards his brother's attacker. "Nobody screws with my brother."

Nikolai howled, grabbing his face in both hands, staggering backwards to lean against the side of the house, steam escaping between his fingers. Sam pulled himself up, and felt the air charge around him just as the demon's thoughts filtered into his mind.

Sam moved swiftly in front of his brother, watching his brother flinch from his movements in his peripheral vision and felt the pressure of the demon's telekinetic attack. It felt like fire licking his skin and a wreaking ball being thrown into him – repeatedly. His was being pushed back, his heels digging into the ground to stop from being slammed into his brother. _I'm going to kill you both! _Nikolai's voice roared in his mind, causing Sam to groan from the increasing pressure inside his head.

"Dean." Sam gritted out between clenched teeth. "Go to the car, now." Sam could feel Dean hesitate, and Sam's limited patience snapped. "NOW!"

Dean gave him a long look, one Sam wasn't quite able to identify before taking off towards the Impala, looking over his shoulder as he did so.

Sam shut his eyes and focused his attention on the demon at hand, who was snarling and screaming obscenities at Sam, Dean, and the human race in general. That was, until Sam's fist smashed into the demon's face. _When all else fails, do what Dean would do._

Sam grinned at the thought.

Sam pinned Nikolai to the wall with his arm across the demon's throat, trying to forget the continual shivers that ran up and down his arms.

Nikolai laughed, a hacking, howling laugh that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "You and I Sam, we're so much alike. Look at you. You're practically one of us, but you don't seize the _potential. _Instead you hold on to that shred of humanity you call a brother and turn your head the other way. This is what you were _born _to be Sam; a leader, a fighter, and a destroyer. It's only a matter of time until you come around." Sam's arm increased the pressure, the demon's words cut off with a gurgle.

"I'm not like you, Nikolai. Because I have what you never had; hope," Sam chuckled breathlessly, "and you never had a pain in the ass older brother to look out for you." Before Nikolai could answer, Sam grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and sent him flying, hearing the satisfying 'crack' as the demon hit the oak tree on the corner of the lot, the tree groaning as it toppled over.

Sam was sprinting across the lawn toward the Impala across the road before the first branches of the tree had touched the grass of the Carlyle's lawn.

* * *

Dean heard a loud groan before he had pulled the key from his jacket pocket, twisting around on the sidewalk to see where the sound had come from. He watched slack jawed as the rather large oak tree in the front lawn topple over, the top of the tree actually landing and thus crushing the Carlyle's roof and resting in what was once their living room.

"Holy crap." Dean was pulled away from the felled tree when footsteps alerted him to another presence. Dean could just make out the tall, dirty and bloody figure that was Sam before he lowered the shotgun and unlocked the driver door. "Took you long enough." He said aloud as Sam reached the car. "I'm not in the mood for more freaking party tricks tonight." The door creaked as he opened it, and a hand suddenly shot out, wrapping around his bicep and pulled him away from the car. "Sam, what the hell?" Dean shrugged off Sam's grip, noting that Sam seemed a little off balance when he did so.

Sam looked horrible. Blood coated the whole left side of his face, three slash marks across his right cheek from the demon and a couple of spectacular bruises beginning to darken all along his jaw line and one near his left eye. Not to mention that Sam had an arm wrapped protectively around his abdomen. Cracked ribs, potentially broken one's with Sam's luck.

"I'm driving." Sam stated quietly, but there was a hint of authority in that tone. One that Dean was quickly finding disconcerting. They rarely gave each other orders, least of all Sam. It wasn't in Dean's genetic makeup to let his little brother take the reins so thoroughly.

Dean baulked at the idea. "Who died and made you boss?"

A quiet pause, before Sam answered, "You did." Then Dean was gently pushed back and Sam eased himself into the driver's seat, the Impala roaring to life, the headlights illuminating the road before them. "Get in." Sam asked, restraining himself from physically forcing his stubborn pig-headed brother into the passenger seat.

Dean muttered a string of curses, but trudged back over to the passenger side door, before climbing in and heatedly slamming the door to express his dislike of the idea. Sam gunned it, the Impala throwing Dean back into his seat as the car accelerated quickly, giving a new meaning to the term, 'burn rubber'.

It took Dean all of ten seconds between cursing his brother and everything else that had gone wrong tonight before he realized that there wasn't a key in the ignition.

"What the - ?"

"Sorry," Sam sounded a little sheepish, "didn't want to wait for you to pass me the keys. I wanted to get the hell out of here." Dean merely shook his head, and looked out the passenger window. They certainly had a _lot _to talk about when they got out of here.

Dean took one last glance at the once pristine lawn, and physically shuddered as they past the man Sam had been fighting earlier; his black eyes staring straight at them, as were the other four pairs of eyes behind him, all deep pools of black watching as the car sped past them.

Another sharp turn and Dean found himself sliding across the seat right into the passenger door. "Slow the hell down man! Take it easy on her." He grunted as he pushed himself back from the door. Sam smirked but didn't slow down. Dean was losing his patience with his suddenly non-communicative brother.

"What the _fuck_ is going on Sam? Who the hell were they? And what the hell is going on with you? You neglect to mention to me that you've developed a case of the Superman Syndrome? What the fuck was that back there?" Okay, so his patience had worn thin quite a while ago, but hey, nobody was telling him anything, and he'd be damned if he was going to be kept out of the loop – especially if it concerned Sam.

Sam shifted in his seat, grimacing as the movement irritated cracked ribs. He glanced at his brother, receiving an intense stare, one that expected him to divulge his secrets. _Not all of them, big brother. Some things, I have to keep to myself. _

Dean waited, meeting Sam's still golden eyes before he returned his gaze to the road in front of them. Sam's eyes still unnerved him a little – though the intensity behind them had dimmed, which made Sam seem a little less predatory than back at the Carlyle's house, they still freaked him out. It wasn't natural.

"What's going on, that's easy – we were ambushed. Lilith set up a trap; one that we fell for, hook line and sinker." Sam answered calmly, running a hand through his dark and somewhat blood tussled hair before placing it back on the steering wheel.

Before Dean could answer, Sam began explaining the night's events. "Those demons back there? They're just Lilith's foot soldiers, sort of speak. They were nothing but meat and brawn. There wasn't much brain power between the four of them. And there were more than just those four. There were at least a dozen within that block, but they were waiting for orders. They wouldn't step in unless they were needed." Sam was tight lipped, and Dean really hated the fact he was having to pull facts out of his brother like pulling teeth.

Dean was surprised by that. "There was more than four? How the hell would you know that?"

Sam just gave him a knowing look.

"Nevermind, I don't want to know." Dean sighed. This night was just getting worse and worse. "Who was that guy? Nick something or other." Dean waved his hand dismissively, watching his brother for a reaction. Sam's eyes narrowed and his hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel till his hands turned white.

"Nikolai. A demon I've come across once before a couple of months back."

"And? You guys chums now? Going out to the country club while I was gone?" Sam glared at him.

"Hardly. Just before I took off, Bobby and I were on a hunt, kind of a favor to another hunter Bobby knew. Asked for my help before I took off." Sam sighed, shifting in his seat as he tried to find the right words. "There was supposed to be a pair of Black Dogs in the area. We didn't even get to finish before we were ambushed." Sam was silent for a moment. Then - "Nikolai was a part of that group. They beat Bobby to hell right in front of me. The demons enjoying every hit they dished out." Dean's eyes widened. He'd had no idea that this had even occurred. Bobby hadn't said he'd even been on hunts with Sam, being that he had said Sam had taken off pretty fast after he had been dragged down to Hell. Guess Sam wasn't the only one keeping secrets.

A thought suddenly occurred to Dean.

"It happened back then, didn't it? You goin' all _Terminator_ on their asses." A shy smile tugged at the corners of Sam's mouth.

"Yeah, you could say that. I just… _snapped_ and then the demons were backing away. All of them, except Nikolai." Sam hissed the name, hatred easily picked up from the bitter tone of voice.

"Nikolai is unique. He's not like the other demons - not like the usual ones anyways." Sam murmured quietly, eyes sliding over to make eye contact with Dean, before gazing back out the window. Dean shifted in his seat, sitting straighter and angling his body towards Sam, indicating that he had his full attention. The somewhat bumpy road gave way to smooth pavement as they hit the highway heading out of Far Banks.

Sam let out a long sigh, and then continued on with his story. "He was human once. Was just like any other guy – except he had 'gifts'." Uh oh. Dean _so_ didn't want to know where this was going, but already knowing where it was headed. It was like Sam had read his mind.

"Yes Dean, he was just like me; a psychic. Apparently took to burning villages and ripping apart roadways with his _mind. _That is, until he was caught and killed by the people in his village for his crimes. Spending a couple of centuries in Hell certainly didn't do him any favours."

"Why would you think..?" Dean trailed off, just as Sam picked up the unanswered question. "Because he was psychic in life, those abilities carried on into Hell, where it warped him and twisted him into what he is now. He's a hybrid Dean, just like I am." Dean swore his mind stopped like a broken record player. Sam must have misspoken.

"A what? Hybrid? The hell is a hybrid Sam? Have you started sprouting extra feet and a tail while I haven't been looking? You're just… you Sam. Sure you might have grown to be an even bigger pain in my ass, but really a Hybrid?" A nervous chuckle didn't sway Sam from giving Dean a knowing look. _You've no idea, Dean._

"It's just a term that I've used to categorize them - demons." Sam clarified when Dean raised an eyebrow. _And one to describe the freak that I am_ was left unsaid._ "_Nikolai was a strong person in life, with abilities that are not considered the norm and was killed for it. He burned in hell for centuries, making him a sincerely pissed off demon once he got out. Gifted in life, and now gifted after death… well, you know what I mean." Sam tapered off, suddenly finding the rear-view mirror very fascinating.

"Well that's all fine and dandy Sam, but if you haven't realized, you're not a _demon_. Just a little supercharged for who knows why. Or how, for that matter. Look, we'll figure out what's going on with you and we'll – what's wrong?" Dean could see Sam's jaw clenching, his eyes focused intensely on the rear-view mirror.

"We've got company."

* * *

Dean turned around in his seat, watching the SUV turn its high-beams on from the back window, no more than twenty feet behind them.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Dean shouted, turning his head away from the piercing lights.

"Guess they're ready for round two." Sam answered dryly; his foot increasing the pressure on the gas peddle.

"Freaking demons." Dean muttered, opening the glove box and retrieving his Colt 1911. He checked the rounds, and then deftly loaded it.

"You think you can take out the tires, Dean?" Sam asked quietly. Dean's head shot up, and scrutinized Sam's features. Sam was pale, burgeoning on translucent. Shivers wracked his frame, and his breathing was off. Alarm bells were going off in Dean's head. Why hadn't he noticed his brother deteriorating beside him till now?

"Sam? You up for this man?" He could see Sam hesitate, and that hesitation caused more worry than the freaky shit that had already gone down tonight.

"Dean, look. I haven't exactly practiced this," Sam indicated himself with a wave of his hand, "psychic stuff at all." Watching Dean raise an eyebrow, Sam let out a mirthless laugh. "Okay, most of it I haven't practiced. But yeah, I can do this." Dean nodded.

"I've got it man. It's like shooting fish in a barrel." Sam shot him an incredulous look.

"Yeah. A couple of fish in a two-ton car, moving at 80 miles an hour." Sam deadpanned.

Dean's cocky grin was all Sam could see before Dean rolled down the window and stuck his head out, trying to line up a shot.

The cold air blew past Dean, forcing his hair to whip around his forehead in a fury of prickly fingers. His body up to his ribcage was hanging out the passenger window, desperately trying to line up a shot with the SUV's front tire.

"Sam move –" The car drifted farther to the left, moving into the oncoming lane as the car behind them tried to get ahead of the Impala. "- to the left." Shaking his head, Dean once again took aim. Before he could get the shot off, however, the car rammed into the Impala's bumper, forcing Dean to crash into the door jam, his ribs taking the brunt of the force. "Son of a -" Dean hissed between clenched teeth. He was beyond pissed now. Nobody messed with his _baby_!

"You're going down now, bitch." Dean growled, aiming once again for the front tire. Pulling back on the trigger, Dean watched as the tire popped, then shredded. Bits and pieces of rubber flying everywhere before the SUV fishtailed, swerving all across the road before coming to rest in a ditch on the opposite side of the road.

Pulling himself back into the car, Dean settled the gun on the bench seat beside him just as Sam eased his foot off the gas.

"That was so freaking _awesome. _I can't believe that-" Dean was suddenly cut off as a set of headlights lighted up the interior of the car.

"Holy sh – Car Sam, there's a car; SAM THE CAR!" Dean pointed frantically at the oncoming car, all the while searching for the 'holy shit' handles that somehow didn't exist.

"I SEE THE FUCKING CAR!" Sam shouted, yanking on the wheel to pull them back onto the right side of the road. It didn't seem to matter as the car careened towards them.

"Hold on!" Sam yelled, hitting the brakes to slow down. Dean would have gone face first through the front shield window, had it not been for Sam's arm in front of his chest keeping him in his seat.

He cringed as he heard the squeal of tires as Sam cranked the wheel to the right, forcing the Impala to slide. Dean wasn't sure when the mantra of _Not the Pala, not the Pala, _entered his thoughts, but it was somewhere around the time when he could see the other vehicles grill pass by the passenger window on the driver's side.

Sam pulled the car out of the slide and manoeuvred down a side road that Dean hadn't even seen, tires kicking up rocks and dust as the other car narrowly missed them. Dean mentally cringed, trying to tally the amount of work he was going to have to do on his baby when and if they survived. Sam would be lucky if he was able to touch the steering wheel after tonight.

"Jesus Sam, are you _trying _to kill us? This isn't the fucking NASCAR." Dean hedged out as the bumpy road caused him to bounce and rock all over the place, sliding around on the bench seat like it was a crazy carpet.

Sam grunted, but decelerated as they moved farther on the dirt road. Dean's hands were slick with sweat. Holy hell, he _never_ wanted to do that again. Unless of course he was the one driving. That kid was _never_ seeing the driver's seat again.

Taking a few breaths to calm down, Dean glanced at his brother and stared; he had just realised how bad Sam's hands were shaking on the wheel, shivers racing up and down his arms. His face was almost bloodless, his breaths coming in near pants as he pulled oxygen into starved lungs.

"Sam?" _Are you alright? What's going on with you?_

"I'm fine Dean, alright?" Dean wanted to argue that Sam was pulling lies out of his ass, and he was most certainly _not fine,_ but found himself sliding in his seat as Sam pulled a quick U-turn as soon as the road allowed him to do so. The car came to a lurching stop, the engine cut off and Dean found himself cringing at the sound of the car's brakes. Those were going to have to be changed, among other things…

"Why are we waiting here Sam?" Dean asked tersely, ready to throttle his brother if he didn't get a straight answer. All of this round-a-bout cryptic answers he'd been getting all night were really starting to piss him off. Didn't anyone speak plain English anymore?

Headlights bore down on the car, and Dean heard the driver's side door creak open as Sam stepped out. Dean made to follow, grabbing the door handle and pulling back… but the door didn't budge. Sam's door slammed shut, and all of the door locks clicked into place simultaneously.

"Sam! Let me out of the car now!" Dean hissed, yanking on the handle while throwing his shoulder into the door, but the door wouldn't budge.

"Just stay put." Sam replied coolly, his eyes that intense gold color as they locked on to Dean; intense and afraid all at the same time.

"Sam…" Pleading, begging. Dean shifted his gaze from Sam to the approaching vehicle, not even a hundred feet away, and picking up speed…

Sam moved swiftly to stand just eight or nine feet away from the car, the Impala's headlights shining on the back of Sam's legs as he rooted himself to the spot, arms crossed against his chest, seemingly bored and not at all aware that a 2,000 pound vehicle was barrelling down the road towards them. Sixty feet…fifty feet… forty.

"Sam! Get the hell out of the way!" Dean screamed, now mercilessly throwing himself at the car door, clawing at the door handle, trying to rip it off its hinges in his desperate bid to get to Sam.

Thirty feet…

Dean watched helplessly as the car roared closer, headlights nearly blinding him. His heart was pounding in his chest, air being pulled ineffectively into his lungs as the gravel road spit up dirt and rocks as the car flew towards his brother.

Sam shifted his feet, spreading them shoulder length apart, hands dropping down to rest against his sides as the car came within twenty feet, the faces of the two demons in the front seat glaring back at him, the driver grinning maliciously.

Sam glared back, his golden eyes smouldering as he watched the approaching car speeding towards them. _This ends here_.

Waiting till the car was close enough, roughly fifteen feet away, Sam flicked out his hand, as if swatting at a fly, and watched as the vehicle flew backwards, front end smashed in as if hitting a brick wall. The car landed 10 yards away, flipping over twice before exploding in a shower of glass, sparks, and fire, followed by unearthly shrills that filled the night sky.

Dazedly, Sam watched the car burn, the flames dancing across the bits of metal in an incomprehensible dance. Sam felt oddly drained; _exhausted _would be a better description of his current condition. Curiously, he found the ground suddenly shifting beneath his feet followed by his vision greying at the edges while black spots blinked in and out of focus in front of his eyes. It wasn't long after that the ground rushed up to meet him.

* * *

Dean was sitting in incomprehensible shock, hand comically poised to pull the handle back and open the door. He could only stare out the window as he watched the front of the other car shatter as if smashing into an invisible wall, before it went sailing backwards, belly up, before careening with the field and exploding into flames while bouncing off the ground from the sheer strength of the force it had collided with.

"Holy…." Dean was captivated by the flickering orange flames as they engulfed the mangled pretzel of the SUV. The demons undoubtedly escaped, but they wouldn't be following them for a while, unless they found a cluster of hosts in which to possess.

Movement in front of the headlights had Dean's head snapping up just in time to see Sam stumble, his knees beginning to buckle. "Sam!" Dean cried out, just as he grasped the handle and yanked, surprised and concerned when the door opened, just in time to see Sam collapse hard to the ground.

Dean yanked himself out of the car and moved swiftly to Sam's side, unsure if exhaustion, pain, or an attack of some kind had knocked Sam down. Kneeling down in front of his brother, Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and gave it a gentle shake while calling his name.

"Sammy?"

No answer. Not even a twitch.

"Sammy come on man, I need you awake. Sam?" Sam's head bobbed with the gentle rocking motion of Dean's hand on his arm, but there was no reaction. Dean let out a deep breath, and placed two fingers under Sam's jaw to feel for the carotid artery. He felt the steady beat of blood pulsing beneath his fingers and released another deep breath. Glancing back quickly at the car not half a dozen feet away, Dean steeled himself to getting them both the hell out of here.

"Sorry kiddo, but we gotta book." Dean pulled Sam into a sitting position and slipped his hands under Sam's arms and started to drag Sam back to the car. Dean groaned from the strain of pulling 200 plus pounds of little brother. "What the hell have you been eating? You weigh a freaking ton. No more girly coffees and donuts for you, Sam." Dean snarked as he managed to get his brother situated in the car and in a relatively comfortable position before slamming the door shut and racing around to the other side.

Pulling out his keys, Dean shoved them into the ignition and felt the jolt of the car coming back to life. Glancing once more at his unconscious brother in the seat next to him, Dean put the car into drive and hit the gas.

"Hold on Sam."

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A/N: Alrighty, who's ready for some angsty conversation between the boys! *raises hand* Wait till the next chapter to see just how _much_ trouble Sam's in and what the boys are going to do now. Thanks for reading guys!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Alrighty folks! This is the last chapter for this fic. *sad face* but, it's been a heck of a ride, guys. I hope that you have all enjoyed reading it. A big thanks to all those who have reviewed - I appreciated each and every one of them. :)

A/N#2: Cussing, swearing, same old, same old. Angsty!Boys are up to bat too. :p

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. Kripke won't sell them :(

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It was squeaky wheels of a cart being pushed down the hall that had pulled Sam out of sleep. He rolled his head to the other side and tried to find the energy to open his eyes. Dean had taken them to a hospital, of that Sam was sure of. If the antiseptic smell didn't give it away, the concrete like beds did. He did a mental check of himself, feeling bruises from head to toe. His face felt tight, and could only assume his face had been stitched up. His chest felt like a granite slab was resting on it, and could feel the rough texture of bandages wrapped tightly around his ribs as he shifted his weight. Hmm… now that he was sure he was going to survive, where was…

"Sam?"

Ah, there he was. Trying now, Sam rolled his head in Dean's direction, managing to pry his eyes open long enough to catch a glimpse of a blurry, but scruffy looking Dean.

"Mmkay." Was about the most intellectual thing Sam could come up with at the present moment. Dean laughed next to him, the sound of chair legs hitting the floor as Sam felt more than saw Dean move out of his chair to stand next to his bed.

"You ready to see the world on the other side of your eyelids now? Cause there's this nurse, Nancy I think, and her legs man, they are to _die _for." Sam attempted to roll his eyes, a little difficult when they were only half opened in the first place. Figures Dean would scout the local hotties first.

"What happened?" Sam asked, his voice dry and husky from disuse. A cup of water appeared in his line of vision and Sam took it gratefully and relished in the feel of cool water soothing his sore throat. Handing the cup back to Dean, he waited for an answer as Dean settled back in his chair. Dean checked the area visually to make sure no one was around before answering.

"Well, after you got rid of those demons and collapsed, I hauled ass and got us far enough away before I started looking for a hospital. You were still unconscious, and your face man, I mean, I'm good with sutures, but I wasn't going to leave you looking like Frankenstein for the rest of your life. So they fixed you up, and I've been waiting for your lazy ass to get up since." Dean answered, now playing with a hole in his jeans and picking the threads apart.

"How long have we been here? Did you get yourself checked out?" Sam asked, wondering why Dean was quiet all of a sudden.

Looking up at Sam, Dean pulled back his shirt sleeve and checked his watch. "About… 16 hours now. And dude, I'm fine. My shoulder and back are a nice shade of black and blue, but I'll be fine. Nothing Nancy couldn't handle." A devilish smirk, but one that did not reach his eyes. Sam frowned. 16 hours? He'd been out that long? It still didn't explain why he was still so _tired._ He'd guess that he'd used just too much energy, that his abilities had essentially drained him and recovery was taking longer than it had in the past. He'd never pushed himself that hard before.

Really looking at his brother, Sam was growing concerned. Dean wasn't acting normal, or rather normal for Dean. He was withdrawn and quiet, which was not like him. Trying to reach out to his brother, Sam's hand knocked something onto the floor. Dean reached down and picked it up, and Sam saw the holy water flask that Dean carried with him on person at all times. Clarity struck Sam like a wreaking ball, now knowing why the water had been there before he asked. Oh, now didn't this make a horrible kind of sense? Certainly felt like a kick to the solar plexus to him.

"Sorry you wasted the water man." Sam said quietly, watching as Dean stiffened as he placed the flask on the table. "I'm sorry." Sam rushed to say, watching as Dean's entire body tensed under his words. "I didn't mean… I can't control it Dean, and I wasn't trying to freak you out." Sam pleaded quietly for understanding. He saw Dean grit his teeth, jaw locked down tightly and squirmed under Dean's narrowed glare.

"You didn't huh?" Dean answered incredulously. "How many times are you going to lie to me Sam? How many more secrets am I going to have to dig up? I'd thought…" Yeah, Sam knew exactly what Dean had thought. He would have thought so too not so long ago. Sam had to swallow his shame, before attempting to speak.

"I didn't Dean. And I just… I couldn't tell you b-" Dean cut him off.

"Because why Sam? Cause you trust a demon bitch more than me? You can tell _her _but not me? What the hell did I do to you to that you couldn't…"

"I was scared!" Sam practically screamed at his brother, before falling silent again, head resting heavily against his pillows. Dean open and closed his mouth a few times before finally closing it, waiting for Sam to explain. His arms crossed over his chest as he sat back to wait for an explanation.

Sam sighed, scratching at the irritating bandages on his chest before continuing in a quiet voice, staring at the ceiling, not having the strength to look Dean face to face. "I was scared, Dean. I didn't know what the hell was going on, and I didn't always know what I was doing. You've made it clear on what you thought of my 'abilities' and I just…couldn't bring it up. I just..." _couldn't handle seeing the disappointment. _He thought to himself, but didn't dare say it out loud. He didn't want to see Dean's disapproving look that he knew he'd get if he turned his head a fraction to the right.

He heard Dean sigh, and waited for him to start throwing stones his way. Surprisingly, Dean's voice softened, a hint of… pain? In his voice as he answered quietly, "Sam… how am I supposed to trust you if you don't _tell _me these things, huh? I want to trust you man, but you hiding this shit from me isn't helping. No matter how I feel about these," Dean waved his hand vaguely in the air, "powers. But you're my brother, and if something's wrong I need to know about it. I can't help you Sam if you don't let me in." Dean was pleading _pleading_ with him to talk to him, and it took all Sam had not to bury his head in his pillow and cry. He owed it to Dean to at least explain why he'd hidden it, and try and at least patch some of the damage done.

"I am sorry Dean. It's just… it's hard, you know, the last few months…." He faltered, biting his lip trying to get a handle on his emotions. God, Dean should be making fun of him for being such a girl. All he was getting was a sympathetic nod, patiently waiting for him to continue. It was time to clear the air.

"Just start at the beginning." Dean added gently, trying to coax the information out of his brother without having to pull the facts out by force.

A shaky breath, and a quick glance at Dean, and Sam began to explain what had been going on since Dean's death over 5 months ago.

"Everything started falling apart after you, ah, died." Sam added quietly, as if divulging a long buried secret. "I didn't understand why Lilith couldn't kill me – not right away."

A long sigh was the only sound in the suddenly silent room.

"I mean, you were dead and I was forced to watch it. I was helpless, useless. It didn't matter that I was supposed to have some 'bomb' inside of me - some powerful psychic mojo or what not. What a great freaking help that was – it didn't save the one thing I needed to protect." The implication didn't go unnoticed. Dean squirmed in his seat but stayed quiet.

"There was just you and me. And then it was just me." A hitched breath, and Dean was almost starting to regret asking Sam to do this, but things had changed, and Dean needed the truth – no matter how much it was going to cost him, and more importantly, how much it was going to cost Sam. They couldn't afford to keep going with so many secrets between them.

"I don't even remember doing it. It wasn't a sudden light bulb that went off. More like I became aware that something had happened. It wasn't until Bobby came in and was shaking me and yelling at me about something that things shifted back into focus."

"What happened Sam?" Dean asked quietly, his heart picking up speed as he considered the implications.

"I finally looked around and noticed that all the windows had exploded. The hardwood floor was torn to pieces, and the walls were cracked from top to bottom. I didn't know that it had even happened. I was a little preoccupied...." Dean swallowed his guilt. Yeah, Sam was a little busy - staring at his brother's mutilated body on somebody's dining room floor.

A sudden thought occurred to Dean, and before he could get them out, Sam answered.

"Yeah, that's when the first 'episode' occurred. That's what I call it, anyways. Turns out I'd split the street right down the middle. About two and a half feet wide and half a block long. Street lamps were scattered on the ground. Lights inside had exploded." A strained, hollow laugh escaped past Sam's mouth. "Freaked Bobby the hell out. He didn't know what the hell was going on." It pained Dean that he had been the trigger to Sam's emotional breakdown and subsequent psychic meltdown.

"I'm sorry Sam. I just thought –"

"What? That I had forgotten the promise I made to you Dean? That I wouldn't _try _to find out how to use my abilities? I didn't try." At Dean's pointed look, Sam gave a sheepish smile in reply. "Okay, the 'sending demons back to hell' part was intentional," the smile vanished, "but the rest… I didn't have _any_ control over it, Dean. Things just… well things just started happening, and I tried to deal the best I could. It was just too much sometimes, ya know?" He added, before muttering a string of curses, shifting on the bed until he found a comfortable place to relax.

"I'm sorry Sammy." Dean sounded contrite, and Sam let out a breath as he waited for Dean to spit out the rest of his statement. "I know that the past few months haven't been exactly easy – for either of us." Dean paused, chewing absently on the inside of his cheek before shaking his head, a smirk in place of his earlier glum expression.

"But if you keep crap like this from me? I'll kick your ass so hard you won't sit down for a month. Don't think I won't, little brother." He teased playfully, but the meaning, the _important _one, had been received.

Sam smiled thinly, the stitches in his face pulling tight with the action. "Yeah, I know you would." _Thanks for not giving up on me Dean._

Dean stood up, raising his arms above his head and stretching until he heard a faint popping sound, letting out a yawn as he did so. He crossed his arms, observing Sam critically - assessing. "You ready to get the hell out of here?" Trying for nonchalant, but Sam could hear the concern.

Shifting, Sam straightened his overtaxed body and moved to sit upright, using the bed railings to help him move up. God he was _exhausted._ But he could sleep just as easily in the Impala. The seats had at least moulded to his form, where the bed was flat and as hard as a slab of concrete. "Yeah. The car's more comfortable than this granite sheet they call a bed." Dean snorted, but didn't comment further, just nodded and turned to leave the room, presumably Sam guessed, to go get his doctor and discharge papers.

"Dean?" Dean stopped, hovering in the doorway his attention focused on Sam. "Holy water? Really? Dude, I still have the tattoo, you moron." Sam grinned tiredly at his brother. Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Stranger shit has happened. Besides, you were thirsty anyways. Saved me having to get off my ass and go fetch it for you, princess." Sam snorted at being referred to a princess, and Dean's snickered before vanishing around the corner, heading off to find Sam's doctor.

Sam sighed, and tried to soak in the conversation he'd just had with his brother. So many words, and yet, so many things left unsaid. Would they ever get back to the way things had been before? Sam had his doubts. Part of that was his fault, he knew. Keeping secrets in his family never went well, for either the person keeping them or for the person having secrets kept from. It was a horrible habit to begin with, and one that Sam needed to break if he was going to be able to re-build the relationship he'd had with his brother prior to Dean's death. They were set on working things out between them, and it was a start. But Sam acknowledged sadly, that some secrets needed to be buried, no matter how much you wanted to let your family in.

* * *

Dean sat on his bed, flipping through the channels trying to find something to watch. Sam had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow, soft snores could be heard shortly after that. The kid had drained himself just getting out of the hospital, in the car, and to the motel. Whatever mojo Sam had done, it had certainly taken its toll on him physically and mentally. They would need a few days to allow Sam to rest up, before they would try tackling another case.

Dean sighed, finally stopping on a channel with an old horror movie playing before throwing the remote at the end of the bed. He wasn't really watching it. He was busy replaying the conversation he'd had with Sam earlier that day. He was glad that he had finally gotten Sam to talk, but getting him to do so was draining. Why was it so hard to talk to his brother? So much had changed since he'd died. Rather, Sam had changed, and Dean was left floundering trying to play catch up. All of their secrets that had been brought to light in the last few months had helped, but there were still issues and a bit of doubt on both sides. Dean knew they were both at fault for the level of secrets they were keeping from each other, but they were finally trying to reconnect and try and put things right between them.

Glancing at his sleeping sibling, Dean couldn't help but huff and shake his head. The kid was drooling on his pillow again. Sighing, Dean slumped down on his bed so that he was lying flat, hands behind his head. This whole psychic powers thing with Sam certainly freaked Dean out. If he hadn't been scared before, he certainly was now after Sam's little display back at the Carlyle's. Finding out that Sam had held out on him, _lied to his face_, about using his abilities had sent Dean damn near over the edge. That, and Castiel's warning about Dean stopping Sam before the angels did. Fear and anger were a potent combination and that first conversation between he and Sam had certainly left marks on the both of them. It would take a while and effort on both their parts before they could finally forgive and move on. For now, he would believe in his brother to do the right thing – and Dean would make sure he stayed on the right path, even if he has to threaten to beat it into Sam's thick head to make sure it stays that way.

Feeling a headache coming on, Dean rubbed wearily at his forehead. It wasn't till a moment later that he noticed the tv had turned off and the bed dipped near the end of his bed and he looked up to see Castiel sitting there, piercing Dean with a judgmental look.

"Have you ever heard of knocking first?" Dean blurted out, irritating making his words sharp.

Cas pointedly ignored him, his eyes now resting on the still slumbering figure in the bed across from him. Dean felt a moment of panic, immediately sitting up, trying to get himself planted between the angel and his brother.

"Sit." Castiel commanded, his tone broaching no argument. "I'm not here to fight with you. Only to talk." He added, when he saw the mutinous look cross Dean's features.

"About what?" Dean asked, hesitating.

"What we talked about before, Dean." Castiel said cryptically. Dean hated when he did that. Doesn't anyone ever give a straight friggin answer around here?

The angel's face gave nothing away. Calm and collected, he stood up moving away to stand near the coffee table, his eyes on Dean. Waiting for what, Dean didn't know.

"Are we going to keep playing twenty questions? Or are you going to get to the point of this impromptu visit?" Dean bit out, already tired of this charade. He stood up and made his way over to his brother, resting a hand on Sam's shoulder, while keeping his eyes on their guest, his stance protective.

The angel stood still, only his head moved as he tracked the elder Winchester's movements. "Your brother." Castiel answered, sounding both placid and callous at the same time.

Dean's hackles were already raised. Sam was still snoring softly, the raised voices not disturbing him in the slightest. Totally oblivious to the potential danger not a dozen feet from them. Kid was really out for the count. "Leave my brother out of this." Dean hissed between clenched teeth. Enough people had been after his brother lately. He didn't need an angel joining the bandwagon as well.

"Sam has everything to do with it. You should be well aware the reasons why, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah. He's got some freaky psychic stuff going on, I've got it." Dean lowered his voice to not wake up his brother, as he felt his brother shift beneath his touch, rolling father over onto his side facing away from the two other occupants in the room. Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean.

"Do you?" Dean felt a chill go up and down his spine at the cold words, feeling the angel's stare boring into his head. "Sam is only going to get stronger as time goes on. What will you do when he gets beyond your control?" Dean really didn't want to contemplate that. He didn't want to believe that Sam could turn. But these powers…

"Yes." Castiel murmured, as if asking an unspoken question. "His future is uncertain, as it has always been. He's on a road Dean that you may not be able to follow. Whatever 'end game' that Azazel had planned, your brother is apart of that. To what extent, we don't yet know. It makes your brother dangerous for that reason alone." Cas had moved to stand in front of the frazzled hunter, his face mere inches from Dean's. "If you want to keep him, I suggest keeping a closer watch on him."

"What the hell do you want me to do? He's not some puppy that I can strap a leash on." Dean threw back, his voice barely above a whisper as his hand increased the hold on Sam's shoulder, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

"If you want to keep him, you will." Castiel fired back, his calm voice not masking the fierce blaze in his eyes as he studied the hunter before him. Dean squirmed under the gaze, his heart thudding in his chest at the threat, glancing down at his brother before looking up to meet Castiel's challenge – only to be met with an empty room.

"Sonofa…." Dean's head whipped around as he checked every inch of the room, seeing if anyone else had wanted to pop in for a late night visit. Sighing, he moved away towards the window, pulling back the curtains to check the area again. _Stupid angels. _He thought to himself.

"Dean?" Sam's sleepy voice pulled Dean out of his thoughts as he moved from the window and moved over to his brother's bed.

"Yeah?" Dean answered quietly.

"Everything okay?" Boy, now wasn't that a loaded question. Things were certainly _not_ okay. The apocalypse was coming, demons were running wild, angels were popping in for tea and crumpets at one in the morning, and both sides were gunning for his brother and Dean was trapped in the middle. But at the moment, all Dean needed was his family, and that would have to be enough.

"Yeah dude. Everything's fine. Go back to sleep Sammy." Sam was practically asleep already, and with a sleepy grin, he wrapped the blanket tightly around himself, and drifted off, the pain medication easily affording the youngest Winchester to slip easily back into sleep.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his short tussled hair. Things were so screwed up. But if they had any chance of coming through this alive, then they needed to do it together.

"Looks like we've got work to do little brother." Dean murmured quietly to his slumbering sibling, patting his arm gently before moving to his own bed and flicking the TV back on.

End.

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A/N: Thanks for reading guys! R & R is always appreciated.


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